


if you keep saying yes

by wytch-lyghts (flight_on_broken_wings)



Series: Widofjord AU Excerpts [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (kinda), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Body Worship, Confessions, Emotional Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Fairy Tale Elements, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Plot only hinted in the context, Typical fantasy hero and villain set up, Yearning, brief forays into egregious metaphor, it’s not just pwp is what I’m saying, smut in the latter half, vague fantasy politics, widofjord
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25663045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flight_on_broken_wings/pseuds/wytch-lyghts
Summary: Caleb’s eyes shone bright in the soft glow, the curve of his answering smile downright sinful, its corners wicked sharp and unabashed to be caught in such a holy light.Melora help him, Fjord wanted to brush his fingers along the edge of that blade they danced, wanted to trace the edge of that smile like it was holy, his fingertips already calloused and scarred from the many times before they’d caught those corners and bled. But it was a prayer Fjord whispered, worship he indulged in every time he returned to him like this, firelight left high in the tower like a lighthouse, a beacon calling him home. A prayer mingled with the blood kissed clean from his fingertips every damn time. And the Wildmother had yet to call it blasphemy.
Relationships: Fjord/Caleb Widogast
Series: Widofjord AU Excerpts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988698
Comments: 25
Kudos: 182





	if you keep saying yes

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to explore the conclusion of yearning and the dismissal of ‘distance protects the heart’, for reasons. That sounds very nice for what is in large part just *stupidly* soft smut. As for plot, consider this an excerpt from the third act of a longer montage of meetings between Caleb and Fjord strung out across a number of years that I'll never write.
> 
> Title from Richard Siken: “You cannot have an opponent if you keep saying yes.”

The final brush strokes of bloody orange painted by the late evening sun were disappearing over the jagged tree tops of the Savalirwood, the dark silhouette of the forest stretching across the base of the sprawling hills. 

Standing at the bottom of the stone path, the dark hilltop manor before him, Fjord could still see the warm glow of firelight dancing in the windows, up in the tower spiraling just high enough to join the tallest of the tree branches in clawing at the sky. By all Melora’s wisdom, he was an idiot to ride into the Savalirwood near nightfall, even here at the fringes. The local townsfolk had warned him of as much, not in words but rather in the looks they shared as he rode out, one more idiot they were confident wouldn’t return.

There were surely worse things in the wood than the mage in that tower. But Fjord would admit his bias in that regard. 

Men and women younger and more resolutely moralled than himself hadn’t made it as far from Rexxentrum as the first proper northern snowfall, much less as far as the mage’s front door. And now, the torchlit windows of the tower a lighthouse beacon calling him forward, Fjord wondered if the journey really was becoming this simple. Or perhaps if it was just deceptively so. 

Widogast was a clever bastard. Even if only for the sake of pretense, of maintaining this little charade, Fjord wouldn’t put a trap of some sort past him. If only to keep Fjord guessing. 

Except he found no nuisances of that nature along the path, nothing arcane or invisible that the Star Razor’s magic still pulsing through his veins allowed him to see. And the front door, the dark expanse of wood and blackened iron once an imposing welcome, he found unlocked. 

_Becoming awfully bold now_ , Fjord huffed to himself. He brushed the thought aside, rolling his eyes, but old habits died hard; a shiver brushed its cold fingers down his spine, the back of his neck prickling, like he was being watched. The anticipation was a warm contrast though, beginning to coil hot under his sternum, his heart tapping out an interested beat against his ribcage. 

The hinges opened smoothly, silently as Fjord pushed inside. Divine energy radiated off his sword held aloft before him, casting the entry hall in faint white light and throwing shadows across the grey stone walls as he moved. 

It was a familiar path by now. Once he would have found the manor as much a maze of illusions and dangers as the short journey north. But neither were ever quite so dangerous as the previous trip, a slowly dawning realization he’d attributed to either practice or Melora’s oversight smoothing the path for too long. Or perhaps, _perhaps,_ a quiet voice in the back of his mind whispered, willed, Widogast had grown just fond enough of Fjord’s steady interruptions of the former-Assembly archmage’s early retirement to remove all those protections dissuading younger and more reckless heroes from making the journey north. Perhaps fond enough to leave his door unlocked.

Widogast had left the job amid a storm of intrigue and rumor and with a shadow hanging overhead, a smoke plume burning black and oily like the towers of the Assembly Hall had that day. And in the years that followed, the name ‘Caleb Widogast’ faded from the conversations of kings and queens’ courts, taken up instead amid the counsel kept by tavern bards and in the ghost stories mothers threatened unruly children with. Thus, becoming something of a ghost story himself.

The day this particular ghost story’s lair, beyond the reach of the Empire, and the rumors of the dark necromancy and lichdom rituals that went on there ceased to draw well-intentioned adventurers and profiteering mercenaries alike from every city and hamlet north of Zadash, _that_ would be the day Fjord would put up his sword and shield for good. 

By the Wildmother, he swore he would. But that was a promise he didn’t need an oath upon any goddess to keep, a prayer whispered too many times into the privacy of pillowcases after dark. 

There was even an open space above Caleb’s mantle, Fjord observed as he entered the room, the low simmering coals still glowing in the hearth illuminating the cold stone walls. Maybe he’d appreciate the irony of that. 

“A bit late for dinner guests,” a quiet voice intoned behind him, rich accent coloring each syllable. And Fjord would recognize it anywhere, recognize it poised like this when they played this game, or sleep heavy in mornings, or stretched thin those evenings Fjord got his hands and mouth on him. 

And so Fjord only jumped slightly at the unannounced intrusion of the insular dark of the dining hall, the radius of the glow cast by his sword stopping short of the speaker. He was wound too tightly not to. 

Squaring his shoulders, Fjord turned slowly, blinking through the dark. “It is, isn’t it,” he agreed lightly. “And you know, I’d hate to be an inconvenience.” Fjord was unable to help the happy rumble in his chest, a slow smirk curling the edge of his mouth. 

A dry huff, not quite amused, but not bored either. “No, never that,” Caleb sighed, stepping forward from the dark and into the dim light of Melora’s blessing. 

A black, soft-looking evening robe dripped from his pale wrists and collar, his silhouette melting into the dark. Caleb’s hair glinted copper where the light caught it, falling loose around his face, a bit longer than the last time. He pursed his lips, appraising his visitor, the ruby red in his wine glass slowly swirling in his hand. His eyes though, Caleb’s eyes Fjord felt drawn into, dark pools of pale blue that threatened to pull him under. That almost convinced him he wouldn’t mind the drowning. 

“Perhaps not dinner then,” Caleb mused, his head tilted to the side just so. “Join me for a drink instead?”

Fjord’s eyes flicked from the glass in hand — _proffered_ , he realized, spotting a second glass a good deal less full held down by the archmage’s side — back up to Caleb’s face, the dark circles that had last plagued it gone, replaced by faint creases at the corners of his eyes that betrayed the pleasure he took in the drama of this little scene. How he amused himself so thoroughly, playing this game to the rules they’d laid out from the beginning.

“Not sure how I could turn down an offer like that,” Fjord said, the ghost of a smirk reaching his eyes, slow, before it turned sharp. “Do you greet all your evening visitors with an offer of drinks and—“ Fjord gave Caleb a look, raising an eyebrow curiously as his eyes flicked down and back up to Caleb’s eyes— “less than formal apparel?” he asked, rather amused with himself.

Caleb huffed, a far thing from flustered. “If you want me to keep dressing up for you Fjord, I’m afraid you’ll need to put in more effort,” he informed him, deadpan. 

This game had changed somewhere along the way. Unspoken, the rules adapted over time, until it came easier, smoother, a great deal less confusing. But at its core, it was always the same.

“How far did I get then, this time?” he asked, because playing the game, making a challenge of it, as if the last dregs of antagonism between them hadn’t faded at least a year ago, was easier than asking, _How did you know I was coming?_

Safer than asking, _Did you look for me?_

The question like a lifeline when the nervousness in his heart wouldn’t let him ask if he was missed.

Caleb’s eyes shone bright in the soft glow, the curve of his answering smile downright sinful, its corners wicked sharp and unabashed to be caught in such a holy light. “My dear,” Caleb laughed, light but _real_ , his eyes glowing like live coals themselves, burning their way right through Fjord’s heart. “I am beginning to suspect you step across all of those silver threads on purpose.”

And if he did, could anyone blame him? 

Melora help him, Fjord wanted to brush his fingers along the edge of that blade they danced, wanted to trace the edge of that smile like it was holy, his fingertips already calloused and scarred from the many times before they’d caught those corners and bled. But it was a prayer Fjord whispered, worship he indulged in every time he returned to him like this, firelight left high in the tower like a lighthouse, a beacon calling him home. A prayer mingled with the blood kissed clean from his fingertips every damn time. And the Wildmother had yet to call it blasphemy.

He didn’t have the words to answer, his breath caught in his throat and lungs uncooperative.

“But then, it has been a while. Perhaps you are out of practice,” Caleb excused, shrugging and lifting his own glass to sip. 

The edge of his robe slipped just that much along the soft line of his collarbone as he did, drawing Fjord’s eyes to the flash of pale unmarked skin like a moth to a flame, desire sinking her hooks into him deep. 

“So much changes, so much stays the same,” Caleb murmured, almost to himself, and paused, his eyes dancing over Fjord with interest. “Am I to call you My Lord, now?” he mocked gently, and it _was_ mocking, his question, but a more serious inquiry shone in the pupil-black of his eyes, souring the pleasure at the corners of his lips.

Fjord raised an eyebrow, letting his head fall to the side, not yet sure where the bitterness lay. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, “but far be it from me to stop you.” He’d intended for humor, a light chuckle, but it came out sounding so much softer. _Far be it from me to deny you anything_. Fjord cleared his throat. “You received your invitation, didn’t you? Please tell me if not,” he encouraged, “or else I’m paying the wrong couriers far too great a sum.”

Caleb huffed in quiet amusement, finally drifting forward with graceful steps, muted by the heavy fabric of his robe so he might have been floating. “I received it, yes,” he reassured, though still something else hovered behind his eyes. Uncertainty, or kin to it, as best Fjord could tell.

But reading Caleb was still a struggle, and not something he claimed expertise in. Not yet. Perhaps not even if he dedicated the rest of his life to trying. And Fjord would’ve been lying if he said he hadn’t dreamed of it, vague honey-sweet fantasies cradled, confided in the private place between his heart and his goddess. And oh, what she must have thought of him, all those times he’d laid awake at night until she sent either rain or breeze to shake the trees and lull him to gentle sleep.

Fjord hummed a noncommittal note, lowering the Star Razor to his side, only still in his hand at all for lack of a proper light to see by. Because Fjord wasn’t one to rob his own eyes of a sight like this. “If you’d come, you’d know it’s only a small bit of land,” Fjord said, keeping his tone carefully neutral, avoiding that twinge of hurt he dared to feel behind his sternum. As if he hadn’t convinced himself the invitation was dry humor in and of itself, rather than a real offer. An offer he knew, no matter his feelings, Caleb could never accept. 

“Beau and I don’t really know what to do with it,” he continued at Caleb’s silence, Caleb’s eyes watchful, too knowing as they studied Fjord with each step closer he drifted. “It’s not like we expected Lord Umbrey to give it to us. Didn’t expect a reward at all, really, not beyond the usual platitudes. It was just more convenient than to keep it in the family, I guess.”

Caleb’s smile twisted at that, all dry amusement and understanding. “It’s never _convenient_ to associate one’s family with a vampire masquerading all this time as a nobleman,” he agreed, lifting the wine glass in hand as Fjord closed that last bit of distance, coming within reach, never breaking eye contact as he offered it wordlessly. “Well done with that, by the way,” he purred, his smile hitching, pleased as Fjord took the warm glass from his hand. 

While Fjord pretended like his heart didn’t stumble at the cool brush of their fingers, even for the span of the breath it lasted. 

“I hope we didn’t worry you,” Fjord teased, except he more than half meant it, searching Caleb’s eyes for confirmation he understood that. “I meant to come by after it was done, but, you know,” he sighed, and Caleb _did_. If anyone did, it would be him. “Everything started happening so quickly, and, well. Politics.” 

The sharp edges of Caleb’s grin, something that might have been predatory a year ago, the last layer of his defenses, softened at the corners. The same softness extended to his eyes. “I am just glad my research did not lead you astray,” he said quietly.

“Came in real handy,” Fjord agreed before taking a tentative sip of the wine that was offered. He hummed though, pleasantly surprised by the sweet notes of the wine as he let it roll over his tongue, expecting the usual bitterness. He lowered the rim of the glass from his lip, not oblivious to how Caleb’s eyes followed the motion as he swallowed. “This is nice,” he admitted, tongue darting over his bottom lip if only to watch Caleb’s eyes darken, his own eyes fixed on the delicate turn of his wrist, the shift of the pale column of his throat as Caleb took a sip of his own glass. “I don’t mind this at all.”

Caleb’s grin turned a hint victorious, if anything a touch too smug. “I thought you might like this one,” he said, pausing to sip gingerly at his glass, eyes burning through Fjord over the rim balanced lightly against his lip. “Sweeter than the last, no?”

“Mh,” he agreed, meeting Caleb’s heavy gaze, daring and yet refusing to be the one to break first, to move, his heart racing in his chest at the mere proximity. He didn’t miss the days when it took seeing the wizard as a threat to send his heart fluttering against his ribs for another reason entirely. It came easier now, gentler: a touch, a few words, hells, even a look, absolutely smouldering like that. 

Fjord knew where this led. 

He was plenty guilty of leading them there himself enough times to know. 

He took a breath, formulating the words he’d intended to head them off at the pass, but he wasn’t prepared for Caleb’s grin to falter suddenly, for his expression to crack. Something like regret bleeding through to the surface. 

“You know I would have,” Caleb breathed, his eyes falling from Fjord’s face to his chest, lost somewhere in the middle distance. “But I…” He stood barely a half step away now, though Fjord couldn’t say which of them had shifted forward last, if it had even been a decision, or whether they were merely victims to the gravity between them. The same gravity that had him always returning. 

Fjord exhaled slowly, steadying himself. “I know,” he reassured, and he did. He never should’ve sent the invitation. It was cheeky at best, foolishly cruel at worst; setting foot on Empire soil again would only spell trouble for Caleb, no matter how much Fjord willed those troubles to be buried in the past. “Politics.”

An apology took wordless form in Caleb’s eyes, fading away at the earnest acceptance in Fjord’s. Darkening at the heat that replaced it as Fjord’s eyes dragged from Caleb’s wine-red lips to the curve of his throat and back again like a physical caress. Caleb’s expression, the way he returned Fjord’s looking turned as heady and cherry-sweet as the doubtlessly expensive wine that Fjord had no palette for, and making his thought process stumble a great deal worse than he could ever blame on the alcohol. 

“Maybe I could make it up to you?” Caleb breathed, a question, certainly, seeking permission more than anything.

“Gods,” he exhaled, like he even had to consider it. Fjord shifted those few inches forward, helpless not to, letting his eyes slide over the fan of Caleb’s eyelashes against the warm flush beginning to color his cheekbones as his eyelids dropped low. Fjord’s eyes traced down the sharp edge of Caleb’s jaw, down to his reddened lips, curling, never more pleased with himself. “I’m sure you could,” he heard himself murmur, embarrassingly breathless if either of them had the mind for that.

They were close enough now that he felt Caleb’s slow, pleased sigh ghost warm against his neck. The divine glow of the Star Razor was swallowed by darkness as the sword slipped from Fjord’s fingers and back into its ether, too mesmerized by the faint brush of Caleb’s breath against his lips to care. Then with his newly freed hand, Fjord was tilting Caleb’s face up to meet his, cradling his pulse like it was precious. Close enough to taste the cherry wine on his breath, on his lips, Fjord finally leaned down to kiss him. His heart was in his throat, absolutely reckless in its wanting, but he kept each touch soft, reverent, entranced by the taste of Caleb on his tongue enough to make this damnable pilgrimage every day of his life if he had to. If Caleb allowed him that.

Fjord swallowed the soft gasp the gentleness never failed to pull from Caleb’s chest. Slipping past Caleb’s parted lips to brush fleetingly at his tongue, Fjord pressed a smile against his lips as he felt Caleb shiver, melting further into Fjord’s chest. 

But then Caleb moved with an urgency Fjord hadn’t felt, had wanted to forego, reaching blindly, unable and unwilling to pull himself away as he took both of the glasses that occupied their hands and set them to the table. “Easy, easy,” Fjord gentled against his lips, dragging his palm heavy down the pretty curve of his back, but Caleb’s hands were busy finding the clasp of Fjord’s cloak, releasing it to pool heavily on the floor around his feet. Clever fingers were already skimming down his breastplate to find more familiar ties and buckles of his armor by time his cloak settled, set on divesting Fjord of it all right then and there in the dark dining hall. 

Fjord felt a chuckle at his haste bubble up from his chest, but it was cut off by a quiet groan instead as he felt Caleb’s teeth scraping at his lower lip, at his jaw, at the sensitive skin of his throat. Everywhere, Caleb’s lips left a burning trail across his skin, summoning dark bruises to the surface. Fjord let his head tilt back, both his hands settling heavily at Caleb’s narrow waist, his claws, even dulled, digging into the richly layered fabric of his robe and pulling his hips flush with Fjord’s.

“Can’t just go stripping my armor off,” Fjord chided against his lips, endlessly amused and endeared by the soft huff of a complaint, by the furrow in Caleb’s brow, set on immediate gratification and nothing less. “Don’t you know there’s an evil wizard about?” he teased, pulling Caleb’s bottom lip between his teeth in retaliation, relishing the soft sound from Caleb’s throat before it was quickly aborted, covered with a breath.

“Don’t worry,” Caleb honest to gods _panted_ against his mouth, each kiss wine drunk and sweeter for it, the veneer of his patience wearing thin. “He and I had a conversation,” he whispered against Fjord’s ear like a confession, nibbling at his earlobe, mouthing at the strained tendons in his neck, murmuring, “He’s taking the night off from any further evil-doing.” 

Caleb’s hand dragged up Fjord’s back to bury his fingers in the short hair at the nape of his neck, tugging lightly, pulling a low, pleased groan from his chest. “That’s awfully convenient for us,” he chuckled, indulging for a moment more in the heat of Caleb’s mouth, in all its soft curves and sharp edges as he pulled him back up from his throat, deepening the kiss. 

Caleb freed him of his breastplate with a self-satisfied hum as it slid to the floor with the slither of leather. He pulled away, his teeth immediately finding the swell of muscle of Fjord’s shoulder, nosing his shirt collar aside, lips dragging against newly exposed skin as his hands groped for the rest of the ties keeping Fjord’s armor in place, preventing his hands from finding bare skin. 

“You were gone too long,” he mumbled against Fjord’s collar, pausing long enough to breathe deeply, long enough that Fjord tilted his face up once more, returning his attention to Caleb’s mouth. Tasting, _claiming_ , deeper. Pulling another soft sound from Caleb’s chest. 

“I’m sorry,” Fjord breathed between kisses, “I’m sorry,” he murmured, walking Caleb back until his hips met the edge of the mahogany table and still he pressed, crowding closer, never able to hold him close enough.

Caleb’s fingernails bit crescents into the back of his neck, abandoning his efforts to remove the rest of Fjord’s leathers for the moment in favor of pulling Fjord’s mouth down to meet his more firmly. The insistent brush of his tongue dipping past Fjord’s lips was a searing heat, demanding and imploring all at once, and Fjord was damned to helplessness, no trick, no enchantment stronger than the need to touch and have and _own_ that was surging against his ribs with every heartbeat. 

Fjord gasped, his hips rolling of their own accord to meet the knee Caleb pressed between his thighs, the end of the breathy note of surprise tapering off in a groan, shameless and wanting. He broke away from the kiss, his hands returning to Caleb’s hips to press him back against the edge of the table, to hold him still, just long enough to regain command of his breath. 

“Wait, wait,” Fjord panted. “Do you want –” He was cut off as Caleb recaptured his mouth, an arm around his neck now, keeping him there.

“Yes, _ja_ , _bitte_ ,” Caleb whispered between kisses, whispered around the clumsy smear of his mouth against the corner of Fjord’s lips, each breathless syllable punctuated by the too-quick, shallow rise and fall of his chest. His hands were fumbling over Fjord’s armor again, not to be dissuaded.

“Let me –” Fjord stammered, letting go of Caleb’s hips to undo the buckles of his bracers, pulling at the remaining ties that might have been holding him together.

His blood was rushing too loudly now and his grasp of Zemnian wasn’t good enough to decipher what exactly Caleb breathed in response, but he moved quickly to help, shedding the remaining offending layers until Fjord was stripped to his rough cotton shirt and trousers. He gasped, his lungs seizing in his chest as Caleb’s cold fingers suddenly plunged under his shirt, searching out bare skin, palms sliding flat up the slight softness of his middle, rucking up Fjord’s shirt further. Caleb’s nails dragged thin red lines back down his quivering sides, stopping to paw at his hips, mouthing temptingly at his collar. His tongue flicked against Fjord’s skin, tasting, teasing, dipping lower, his fingers tracing the top of his belt, plucking at his buckle –

“No, no,” Fjord finally collected himself enough to gasp, grabbing for Caleb’s hands even as he shuddered under the delicate scrape of teeth against his pulse.

“Yes,” Caleb breathed, a groan of complaint that quickly dropped lower, more wanton as Fjord’s grip tightened around his wrists, pulling them up from his belt, caged between their chests.

“Not here,” he chastised, drinking in the dark flush that disappeared into the deep collar of Caleb’s robe, his pupils blown wide, bottom lip damp and abused between his teeth as he pouted. Absolutely incorrigible, the way he looked up at Fjord through his lashes. Obscene. Fjord paused for breath, willing his heartbeat to slow with each deep inhale and slow exhale. Unwilling to let Caleb sink to his knees right there and then. “Not like this,” he murmured.

Caleb swallowed, the way his throat worked around nothing a terrible distraction, the way his hips rocked against Fjord’s a tempting bit of friction, but it only pulled a low rumble of warning from Fjord’s chest. Slowly, begrudgingly, Caleb acquiesced, rolling his eyes as he pulled his wrists from Fjord’s grip, his gaze replacing his fingers to drag greedily down Fjord’s torso, but the shiver it elicited from Fjord was the same.

“That doesn’t sound nearly as fun,” he rasped, resting his forehead against Fjord’s shoulder, his lips brushing, teasing at the hollow of his throat, contented at least by the weight of Fjord’s hands settling on his waist again, curling possessive.

“We’ll have time for all that later,” Fjord promised, dropping his voice a pitch lower in Caleb’s ear. Fjord delighted in the catch in his breath, in the shiver that travelled between them. “I want to take my time with you,” he murmured, just as he slid a hand up the back of Caleb’s neck, sifting his fingers through his hair, gathering a fistfull and pulling just sharply enough to drag Caleb’s head back with another of those surprised sounds that went right to the core of him, tension pooling low, simmering warm in his gut. “Let me,” Fjord breathed, brushing his lips over the edge of Caleb’s jaw. “Let me.”

Caleb went loose, pliant in his arms, his eyes fluttering closed as Fjord brushed his lips against the soft column of his throat, still tender and unmarked. A tantalizing promise of so much more, so much _better_ than desperate biting kisses and rough, grasping hands in the dark.

“Scheiße,” he swore, his lips parted on a breathless sigh, tension furrowing his brow, “Fjord, _Liebling_ ,” he groaned as Fjord’s budding tusks scraped against that sensitive spot below his ear, biting down on his own lip to stifle the sound.

“Let me,” Fjord implored again, a whispered prayer against overheated skin trembling for touch, his breath ghosting over his kiss-damp pulse not nearly enough and yet just shy of overwhelming.

Caleb’s hands curled tight in the front of Fjord’s shirt, his white-knuckle grip too desperate for Fjord’s liking, suddenly too much tension between his shoulder blades. He pulled in a deep breath, swallowing hard. “I don’t know what you are asking for, Liebling,” he rasped, his voice already close to ruin. “But you know I would never say no to you.”

“You do know,” Fjord hushed, he’d just never asked for it outright before. Never made a point of their fleeting moments of softness, the moments that Caleb looked at him like that, vulnerable, when they broke the rules of this stupid game. Never dared to cling to those moments because any of Caleb, any way he had him, had to be enough. “You know,” he murmured, brushing his lips over his lover’s leaping pulse.

Caleb’s head tipped back into Fjord’s hand, spine a gorgeous curve as the fingers Fjord buried in his hair gently pulled, a wordless gasp catching in Caleb’s throat. Pleasure spelled a moment of bliss across his expression as Caleb leaned into Fjord’s touch, yielding under it, the tension ebbing from his brow, bleeding away from his shoulders. Fjord purred, pleased, laving gently at the beginnings of a bruise he worked into Caleb’s pale skin.

“Just you,” he continued, a low rasp, the arm around Caleb’s waist tucking him close, closer, thumbing at the sash tied around his waist holding his robe closed, the loose knot slipping. “Fucking perfect,” Fjord groaned against Caleb’s throat, unable to keep from rocking their hips together, a delirious tease of heat and pressure and the promise of more. “Fucking perfect for me,” he murmured, breathing sharp and shallow, a quiet plea, “let me have you.”

Caleb shuddered against him, his pupils blown impossibly wide even as his eyelids drifted low, every hard edge, all of that sharpened steel melting away into clay, malleable in Fjord’s hands. Just begging to be marked and claimed with the drag and press of his fingerprints, every inch of him. 

Caleb swallowed, his breath rasping, reassuring, “You already have me, _Liebling_.” 

A low growl rose in Fjord’s throat, possessive and infinitely pleased. _Not yet_ , he could have purred, his grip tightening in Caleb’s hair just so, fingertips digging into his hip, turning them, walking them back. Not like he’d ached for, not in the way he’d wanted and returned for time and time again. 

“Bedroom,” Fjord said instead, a direction as much as it was a request. “Want to do this right,” he purred between shallow breaths and the persistent kisses Caleb stole from him, whining, petulant every time Fjord nipped punishingly at his lips or throat for his refusal to be patient. Ais hands searching out bare skin every time Fjord pulled away further than Caleb deemed absolutely necessary.

His persistence made their path fumbling, slow, nearly coming to an unordained end as Caleb pressed Fjord against the back of the door once they’d stumbled into the lounge just adjacent the master bedroom. Fjord had lost his shirt then, dropped aside carelessly in the dark, and Caleb’s robe had finally come untied, falling open to reveal the tempting, bare expanse of his torso and light cotton sleep pants that did little to hide his wanting. 

Fjord could have mapped out every scar and freckle smattered across Caleb’s chest with his mouth. Could have explored every soft spot at his collar and throat that made him gasp or groan. Could have had him there and then against the door. And Caleb would have let him, _gods_ he was fucking hungry for it. Coaxing him closer. Sliding a leg behind Fjord’s knee. Demanding and indulgent and _obscene_ the way he choked on quiet moans that were entirely for Fjord’s benefit, goading him on every time his grip tightened just the wrong side of rough or his teeth scraped mean over his bruised throat. Every time he made Caleb hiss, the hint of pain just as intoxicating as the pleasure. 

Caleb captured his mouth in a searing kiss that Fjord risked losing himself to. Frustration and arousal burned inseparably through his veins, frustrated with himself more than anything, annoyingly easy for Caleb to pull his strings, making it all burn hot and fierce only to end far too quickly. 

“Easy,” Fjord tried to gentle him again, his words stolen away as Caleb nipped at his mouth, tongue slick heat against the seam of his lips. Finally, more firmly, a hand on Caleb’s sternum and another stilling his canting hips, “ _easy,_ ” he growled into the kiss. Caleb shuddered slightly at that, his hands grasping, roving toward his belt again – 

Fjord pushed him away, turned them sharply, pressing Caleb at arms’ length against the back of the door firmly enough to make Caleb shudder, his eyes glazed over and impossibly dark, not viewing the sudden shift as a punishment in the least. 

“I don’t want to just _fuck_ you,” Fjord finally swore, for lack of a better explanation channeling as much feeling into the word as he was able.

“No?” Caleb asked, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. He raised an eyebrow at Fjord, a dangerous smirk playing across his mouth, eyes dancing in the undulating lights over head Fjord didn’t recall him summoning. “That is alright,” he soothed, his tone teasing, running a warm palm down Fjord’s chest, his own heaving, his eyes undressing Fjord further. “I would be _more_ than happy to –”

“That’s not what I mean,” Fjord growled, his hand closing around Caleb’s wrist, stopping him from dragging those clever fingers lower. “You know what I mean.”

Some of the playful spark left Caleb’s eyes, his expression hollowing such that the smirk gracing his lips looked too tight, a crack in a hastily constructed facade. His tongue darted over his lips quickly, swallowing. “You give me too much credit,” he murmured. Quiet, almost guilty.

“I don’t,” Fjord disagreed, shifting closer, lifting both his hands to cradle Caleb’s jaw gently. Tilted his face up to meet his gaze. “I thought we were done with – with this,” he admitted, keeping his tone soft, closing his eyes and resting his forehead to Caleb’s. “I sent you that stupid invitation because…” He sighed, his shoulders falling, breathing deeply. Breathing him in, the taste of him overwhelming. “I’m getting too old for this. _We’re_ too old for this.”

The roughness, the fervor, there were times for it, yes. And it wasn’t that Fjord couldn’t enjoy it, couldn’t lose himself in it. He did, plenty. He just wished their every reunion wasn’t another iteration of the conflict that first drove them together, craving the sort of softness that Caleb only seemed comfortable exchanging in the wordless moments between; taking Fjord’s hand to pull him through the library, explaining some concept along the way; pressing his forehead to Fjord’s back when he was exhausted and not quite sober, arms wrapping around him from behind; curling into each other’s warmth well past the morning, drifting without any intention of waking, because waking properly meant Fjord would leave again.

There was a hollow ache in Fjord’s chest, and he’d be damned if he was going to allow Caleb’s stubborn resistance to proof that someone could care for him, that he could be worthy of that, to let it go on aching.

Caleb was quiet for a long minute, his hands finding Fjord’s shoulders, his fingers curling into loose fists against the rise and fall of Fjord’s chest, unsure what to do with them.

“Say something?” Fjord prompted gently, an uncertain hitch to his voice, looking to Caleb for some sign that he understood. 

Caleb wet his lips again, letting his eyes fall closed and drawing in an unsteady breath as he leaned into Fjord’s touch, never more reassuring. “I don’t have the words you want to hear, Fjord,” he sighed, regret weighing heavily on his tone. “I don’t –“ Caleb paused, exhaled, a quiet, frustrated sound in his throat, looking up at Fjord helplessly. “I don’t know how, I don’t –“

Fjord exhaled slowly, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. “Let me take care of you,” he breathed, the pained look in Caleb’s eyes breaking his heart. “Let me show you. Please.”

Caleb sighed, a lilting string of Zemnian slipping under his breath. “Oh Liebling,” he whispered, his arms sliding down to loop around Fjord’s waist, his hold tightening, grounding. “You know I would burn down the world for you.”

Fjord nudged Caleb’s nose with his own, brushing a kiss against his lips. “You know I’d never let you do that,” he said, Caleb’s warm exhale mingling with his own breath, the taste of him a sweetness lingering on his tongue.

Caleb huffed, a weak noise, a faint smile returning to tug at the corner of his mouth. “And that’s why you deserve so much better than myself.” 

“Bullshit,” Fjord scoffed under his breath, biting a punishing kiss against Caleb’s bottom lip. He dropped his hands to Caleb’s waist again, pulling him flush against his chest and turning them, walking them away from the door. “Bullshit,” he murmured between stolen kisses, guiding Caleb finally toward the bed. Whispered into the curve of Caleb’s neck, “Let me show you.” Breathless, _please_ , “Let me show you.”

Caleb’s shaky exhale tapered off in a whine as the backs of his knees hit the mattress, Fjord’s grip on his waist keeping him from sinking down to the unmade covers, not yet satisfied with the faint bruise blooming dark over Caleb’s fluttering pulse. A wordless demand, Fjord twisted his fingers into the soft brocade of the robe draped over Caleb’s shoulders until he shrugged out of it obediently, dragging damp kisses over every inch of the gentle curve of Caleb’s shoulder as it was exposed, a canvas of unmarked skin begging for Fjord to make his claim on it. He mapped the constellations of light freckles from the hollow of Caleb’s throat to the tip of his shoulder with his teeth and lips, his thumbs tracing maddeningly light circles over the crest of Caleb’s hips that had him trembling in his arms.

“Fjord,” he groaned, a hand fisted in Fjord’s hair at the back of his head, not pulling, but holding, rocking up onto his toes to press closer, need and want a dizzying spiral. “Fjord, _please_.”

Warmth unfurled deliriously slowly, pooling low in his belly, a golden honeyed haze clinging to Fjord’s senses. “Yes?” he breathed, unable to bring himself to pull away far enough to meet Caleb’s gaze.

“ _Yes_ , _Fjord_.”

He would never be immune to the plea in Caleb’s tone, in the way he gasped Fjord’s name, sending a thrill down his spine. Fjord dragged his hands down over the curve of Caleb’s ass greedily, stooping to grip the backs of his thighs before lifting, hiking him up Fjord’s hips in one fluid motion and lowering himself to the bed, walking up it on his knees, Caleb in his arms.

Caleb inhaled sharply, all surprise and need and _not enough_ as the move pressed the outline of his cock already achingly hard against the heat of Fjord’s abdomen. His arms wrapped around Fjord’s neck tightly, fingers digging into his shoulders as he held on, hips stuttering forward, dark flush creeping lower over his chest. 

“I have you,” Fjord mumbled into his collar, sitting down on his heels to settle Caleb in his lap, his knees splaying wide to straddle Fjord’s thighs. 

Caleb was breathing hard, his face hidden in the curve of Fjord’s shoulder. Tried to rock up onto his knees and grind himself against Fjord only to be stopped by his hands curling tight around his hips, forcing him still and pulling a shuddering groan of complaint from his chest.

“ _Fjord_ ,” he gasped, a breathless reprimand, his pupils blown wide and mouth temptingly red and slick. Caleb swallowed, wrestling for control of his lungs. “I had over _an_ _hour_ to go and get myself all worked up, idiot that I am, knowing you were coming,” he admitted, the way his brow pulled in frustration endlessly endearing. “You can have what you want, anything, anything,” he grit out, pressing his forehead to Fjord’s shoulder and shuddering helplessly as Fjord soothed his hands up his flank, hushing him gently. “ _Für die Liebe von allem Heiligen_ ,” he swore, “bitte, do _something_.”

“I would’ve liked to see that, I think,” Fjord chuckled, his smirk faltering and a quiet groan slipping past his lips as Caleb slid his knees wider and ground his hips down in Fjord’s lap, reminding him of his own need, trapped in the too-tight fabric of his trousers. 

Caleb huffed, pressing a biting kiss to Fjord’s shoulder. “It was mostly a lot of pacing,” he muttered, rolling his hips against Fjord’s, his breath catching in his throat. “Mostly a lot of getting annoyed with myself. Talking myself down,” he grunted, his fingers tightening on the back of Fjord’s neck, silent pleasure written across his face as Fjord rolled his hips to meet Caleb’s slow grind. Panting, “A lot of staring at the page and not much reading.”

Fjord hummed against Caleb’s throat, pressing an amused grin against the dark marks he’d left there, teeth scraping over his pulse making Caleb’s hips jerk. “Poor thing,” he mocked gently, running his calloused hands back down Caleb’s sides. He dragged his fingertips along the waistband of his pants, dipping past the soft fabric just enough to be a terrible tease. Dragging it out just a moment longer, until Caleb’s breath was absolutely ragged, before finally rubbing his palm against the hard outline of Caleb’s cock through the thin cotton of his pants.

The surprised sound that tore itself from Caleb’s throat was almost pained, his toes curling, hips rutting hard into Fjord’s touch, chasing after that small bit of friction as Fjord withdrew. He breathed, tsking quietly in disapproval.

“Easy,” he murmured against Caleb’s ear, nosing at the sensitive skin behind it. He pressed a soft kiss there. “I have you. Relax.”

Caleb shuddered, his hands clenching, fingers digging into Fjord’s shoulders and the back of his neck harder, as if he could pull him any closer, a breathless whine building in his throat. He rocked forward once more almost like he was helpless to it, the edge of desire, all heat and need and _now_. Almost. Fjord could’ve fallen head first into the _look_ Caleb gave him; he was tempted to, but that was just the point of it, wasn’t it? Caleb’s eyes were a little too bright, something left that hadn’t yet been swallowed up by desire that was still reluctant to be touched like this. Quieted like this. Deserving of this. 

Fjord didn’t say anything. Just waited, his hands returning to Caleb’s hips, fingertips tracing light circles over his skin. Pressing lighter kisses against his throat, his jaw, his cheek. Anything if it proved that he meant it. All of it. More. _Gods_ did he mean it.

Another shiver, gentler, ran the length of Caleb’s spine as he exhaled. Breathed in, slow, and exhaled again, his grip on Fjord softening, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders as he sank deeper into Fjord’s lap, the urgency bleeding away with it. And was rewarded with Fjord dragging a hand down from Caleb’s hip, the touch almost soothing and nothing more, until more slowly, Fjord guided his hand back up the inside of his thigh. Caleb’s muscles bunched under his touch, skin sensitive, a choked sound catching in his throat as Fjord finally touched him, palmed him gently, felt his cock achingly hard and warm through the fabric. He rubbed his thumb in tight circles over the head of him, the light cotton beading dark and damp at the tip already. 

“Fjord,” Caleb gasped, “ _Fjord_ ,” a quiet mantra under his breath, hips still stuttering, small twitches that weren’t nearly so intentional as Fjord squeezed, stroking him slowly through the thin material. 

“I’m here,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around Caleb’s back to hold him close as he leaned forward, slowly lowering Caleb down to the bed. Whispered again, “I have you,” through feather light kisses down the delicate curve of Caleb’s neck as his head tipped back, throat bobbing as he swallowed, breath labored. His eyes drifting closed as he settled, his spine sprawled languid across the cool sheets with a soft groan, his knees falling wide, Fjord’s hips slotted comfortably between them. 

Fjord laved a kiss as his collar, teeth scraping down over his sternum, lower. Caleb groaned, louder as Fjord rocked back onto his knees, slowly sitting upright, pulling away. A low keen at the loss reverberated through Caleb’s chest as Fjord withdrew long enough to tear at the laces of his boots, tossing them and his socks off the bed, and started on his belt buckle.

“Patience,” Fjord chuckled, taking Caleb’s hand as he reached after him, fingers dancing temptingly over Fjord’s belt, his eyes pleading permission. Fjord shook his head no, pressing a damp kiss to the delicate inside of his wrist. 

“That has never been my speciality,” Caleb muttered, a complaint without much bite, his expression collapsing soft around the edges. 

“Always time to learn,” Fjord said, dropping Caleb’s hand back down to the mattress, a dead weight as he settled again. 

A small smile pulled at Caleb’s lips, his eyes hooded, drifting low. He watched Fjord through his eyelashes, gaze lingering on his shoulders and arms, on the ripple of corded muscle as he pulled his belt free, tossing it aside to join the rest of their discarded clothing that had made it as far as the bedroom. “And if I already know what I am good at?” he teased, his voice low, thick with desire. “What if I’d rather do that?” 

The question had warmth unfurling molten hot at the base of Fjord’s spine, a slight catch in his breath betraying his interest. How it felt to be the sole subject of that gaze, that attention. All the more intoxicating knowing how capable, how dangerous, and yet it was the farthest thing from predatory. And Fjord felt the farthest thing from afraid. He lowered himself again, his hands at either side of Caleb’s shoulders, hovering, looking. Not yet touching. “I told you,” Fjord said, a smug hook to the corner of his mouth, “I want to take my time with you.” 

Caleb rolled his eyes, resigned, grumbling his disagreement even as he squirmed, rolling his hips up against nothing, begging Fjord to touch him. His fingertips the barest brush over Fjord’s arms, up to his chest, begging to touch in turn. “Doesn’t that sound a bit boring?” he sighed. “For you?”

“Never,” Fjord breathed. He couldn’t imagine that the _want_ , the heat in his own expression left Caleb guessing as to how much he meant it. “Not if it’s you. Not to me.” 

Caleb huffed, his eyes flashing away for a moment, the warm flush over his face and chest rekindled darker. 

“You had an hour to think about it?” Fjord continued. “I had days. Days and nights and _dreams_ thinking about this,” he admitted, dropping down to his forearms, pressing a chaste kiss to Caleb’s chest, right over his heart. “About what I would do,” he murmured against Caleb’s flushed skin as he dragged his lips over his pectoral, nibbling, teasing at the taut muscle. “About how exactly I wanted you.” 

Caleb cursed, low and breathless in Zemnian as Fjord’s tongue brushed over his peaked nipple just the once, the gentle scrape of teeth following, Caleb’s back arching to press further into it. “You –“ he gasped, catching himself, his voice ruined. He swallowed. ”You cannot just say things like that.”

Fjord could’ve laughed, pressed his grin to Caleb’s sternum instead. Dragged his mouth a trail lower. “I can,” he disagreed, looking up at Caleb’s face to find him propped on his elbows watching Fjord intently, his eyes dark with wanting, the flush pulled to the surface of his skin such a pretty shade. And lips a shade darker, parted with each panting breath, each shallow rise and fall of his chest. “I will,” he declared, making eye contact with Caleb all the while he moved lower, shuffling further down the bed. Watching his face when he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the strained material trapping Caleb’s cock against his thigh, laving his tongue over the already leaking head, a possessive rumble in Fjord’s chest at the taste of him. 

Caleb cried out, sharp and short as he dropped onto his back again, tensing and biting his knuckle to keep quiet. His hips jerked uselessly against Fjord’s grip on his waist, holding him down while he mouthed at him, utterly shameless, unforgivably filthy. He couldn’t suppress the low groan that resonated in his chest though, the breathless, wordless pleasure that burned through Fjord’s veins like wildfire, his own hips jerking against the bedding helplessly, spurred on by Caleb’s reaction. By every sound he wrung from his lips. Every twitch and effort he made to escape Fjord’s grip, his teasing, as he finally pulled the waistband of his pants down low enough to free his cock, flushed dark and heavy in his hand as he lifted it to his lips, his tongue lapping gently at the thick vein running the underside, smearing precome with his thumb at the tip.

But Fjord’s own need was still secondary, would have to wait as long as Caleb was splayed out like this, the fractured string of Zemnian and Common falling from his lips impossible to parse entirely. But he heard “ _please”_ and _“bitte_ ” and his own name, enough to make his heart skip a beat in his chest.

Soothing his hands up Caleb’s sides and licking his lips as he pulled away, Fjord stopped to pull his sleep down and off of him. Settling down again on his elbows, Fjord hiked first one of Caleb’s thighs, then the other over his shoulders, whispering quiet praise against the cut of his hip between damp kisses.

“Good?” he asked quietly, sighing as he rolled his hips against the mattress, anything to take the edge of desperation off, tension coiled hot and tight in his pelvis. His breath against Caleb’s cock, spit-slick and hypersensitive from Fjord’s teasing, made Caleb hiss with pleasure, his hips jerking, the breath caught in his throat as he nodded, wordless.

When the faint tremors wracking him stopped, Fjord felt Caleb’s heel brush his back, a nudge to continue. To do something. He didn’t move though, catching his breath against the soft inside of Caleb’s thigh until Caleb lifted his head to meet his eyes, looking every sort of ruined. Grinning, never breaking eye contact, Fjord ducked his head to wrap his lips around him, taking Caleb almost to the root as he swallowed around the head of his cock, leaking and twitching against the back of Fjord’s tongue. 

Caleb gasped, a cry strangled in his throat as his head fell back, barely managing to pull a thin breath into his chest as Fjord pulled back, working his tongue against the underside of Caleb’s dick all the while before sinking down that much lower. Lower, until his throat sealed perfectly around the head of his cock, achingly hard and leaking, Fjord’s fingers wrapping tightly around the base.

Fjord fucked his throat open on Caleb’s cock slowly, almost leisurely, his tongue pressing roughly, lapping precome from the tip every time he withdrew until Caleb’s breath had gone shallow and ragged and the jerk of his hips and cries of fractured Zemnian every time Fjord pushed him to the edge of _too much_ , _too much_ were reduced to silent trembles. Fjord pulled off of him with an obscene wet sound, licking his lips and biting a kiss to the inside of Caleb’s thigh as he whined faintly, his eyes closed, limp in Fjord’s hands.

Pressing Caleb’s knees up higher, Fjord ran his fingers through the damp mess coating Caleb’s dick, leaving him still shuddering when Fjord brushed his fingers down his perineum, circling over Caleb’s entrance. Not pressing, just teasing, the only warning he gave before nudging Caleb’s thighs open wider and ducking his head to flick his tongue against Caleb’s fluttering and clenching rim, pulling a near sob from him as he began working Caleb open in earnest.

Caleb yelped, digging his heels into the mattress, one of his hands sliding through Fjord’s hair and the other gripping the sheets, clenching tightly. “ _Fjord_ ,” he gasped like a curse, his grip tightening, pulling a low, pleased rumble from Fjord’s chest. “Fjord _please_ , I can’t, I _can’t_ –”

Caleb’s breath left him, nearly shuddering apart as Fjord easing two fingers past his entrance, pressing in deep, calloused pads of his fingers dragging hard at Caleb’s walls as he withdrew. He repeated it, watching Caleb give up his white-knuckle grip on the bed sheets as the arc of his spine sagged back down to the mattress, a near sob ripped from his throat. 

“No?” Fjord rasped, holding Caleb’s entrance wide with the fingers buried inside him, wide enough to lick past his rim, sucking wet at the loose ring of muscle fluttering red and used around him. 

Fjord’s fingers found that tender bundle of nerves, rubbing over his prostate mercilessly every time he fucked him open. Overwhelmed, Caleb thrashed against Fjord’s hold on his hips, caught between pulling away from the onslaught of sensation and grinding his hips down into it, chasing the quickly building promise of release. Fjord added another finger, _twisting_ in a way that never failed –

“ _Fuck, fuck_ –” Caleb choked, nearly convulsing, his jaw clenched tightly, eyes closed hard with moisture glinting at the corners. The hand in Fjord’s hair tightened and _pulled_ , and Fjord backed off, shifting back onto his knees, running his palms soothing along the outsides of Caleb’s thighs, letting him calm down.

“Shh,” he hushed, murmured, “I have you, I have you,” pressing a kiss to the inside of his knee, rubbing the faint stubble of his jaw against the soft skin. He watched as Caleb collapsed back down to the bed, breathing hard. His cock still lay heavy against his hip, angry red and unspent, precome smeared with spit down the length of him and beading at the tip. “Too much?” he asked, swallowing hard, his knees shifting wider as he palmed himself though his trousers.

Caleb nodded, panting. He reached for Fjord weakly, barely a gesture but it had something surging in Fjord’s chest that carried him forward, holding his weight off of Caleb on his forearms, close enough to nuzzle at the tapestry of darkening bruises kissed into his throat. Caleb sighed, quiet, content. He caught his breath as he just barely rocked his hips against Fjord’s, groaning softly as Fjord licked his palm and took his dick in hand, stroking slowly from root to tip, squeezing firmly. No more teasing.

“Think you can still take me? Or too much,” Fjord asked, peppering light kisses against his racing pulse, relishing every breath and sigh that fell past Caleb’s lips. 

Caleb nodded again, had yet to open his eyes. “ _Ja_ ,” he whispered, clearing his throat harshly. “ _Ja, bitte, Fjord_ ,” a quiet string of Zemnian following it that surpassed the bounds of Fjord’s limited understanding, but that had his heart aching, ruined as already was.

“Okay,” he breathed, letting go of Caleb and wiping his hand against a corner of the sheets, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of Caleb’s mouth. “Just a minute,” he whispered, making ot push back up to his knees and crawl to the edge of the bed.

As soon as he did though, a harsh, almost pained sound of protest rasped in Caleb’s throat, his eyes blinking open, too bright and spilling over at the corners with a look that alone had Fjord stopping in his tracks, more than even his hands clinging at his shoulders. Caleb choked out something in Zemnian, reverting quickly, his voice wavering – “where are you –”

The near desperation in his tone, voice wrecked, sunk into Fjord’s chest and pulled at his heart strings. He immediately dropped back down to blanket Caleb’s body, pressing closer even than before, hushing him gently as he brushed the tear tracks away from his cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, nuzzling close, “was just fetching a bit of oil. Okay?” 

Fjord watched him expectantly, concern growing heavier on his brow. Caleb just breathed in shakily, nodded, turning his face away. “Hey,” Fjord called him back, “you okay?” A pause, silence filled with Caleb’s shuddering breath, a violent shiver tearing down his spine. “Cay?” Fjord nudged at his jaw. “Come back to me, sweetheart. Where’s your head at?” he murmured, shifting onto his side next to Caleb. Pressed his palm flat to his chest, grounding. 

Caleb swallowed, finally opened his eyes, his gaze down at Fjord’s chest but falling away in the space between them, too distant for Fjord’s liking. “I’m sorry,” he rasped, turning onto his side, curling against Fjord’s chest.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Fjord reassured, resting his arm over his side, fingers splayed below his shoulder blade. “I’m right here. Just tell me, tell me what’s wrong, yeah? I–”

“I don’t want you to _leave again_ ,” Caleb rasped, painfully quiet, but the words forced out of him suddenly enough to stop Fjord in his tracks. Like Caleb had been helpless to stop them, as much as he was the moisture that squeezed past his closed eyes and clung to his lashes. A confession that carved out a hollow in Fjord’s chest where his heart ought to be. 

“Oh sweetheart,” Fjord breathed, choking down the guilt threatening to overwhelm him and tucking Caleb that much closer. “I won’t. I won’t. I’m right here,” he promised, a litany whispered against Caleb’s collar, repeating it as long as Caleb needed him to. 

Caleb cleared his throat, swiping over his eyes with the heels of his palms and blinking them clear. He swallowed, managing to look anywhere but Fjord’s face. “You have to,” he rasped, twisting a dagger in Fjord’s heart and turning onto his back again, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “You –”

“Cay,” Fjord protested, pushing up onto an elbow. “I –”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, voice damningly flat, shaking his head. “I’m fine.” He cleared his throat again. “You have to,” he said, more evenly. “It’s no one’s fault. You can’t stay, and I can’t go,” he intoned, closing his eyes tightly. “We both know that. Just grab the oil. Fuck me, yeah?” he asked, dry and not nearly as light as he intended, Fjord was sure.

Fjord sighed, shaking his head. “Come here,” he beckoned, sitting upright against the pillows and headboard. Hooking his arms under Caleb’s, he hauled him up to sit between Fjord’s legs with Caleb’s back to his chest, a frustrated note dying in Caleb’s throat. He quelled his surprise, burying his face in the crook of Caleb’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his middle tightly. 

“Fjord,” Caleb sighed, sounding too tired to be frustrated as he slumped, resigned against Fjord’s chest. “I’m sorry. I have terrible timing,” he muttered, his knees curling up closer. “I shouldn’t have said anything at a–”

“Where are we going then?” Fjord asked, pressing a kiss to the curve of Caleb’s shoulder, his fingers ghosting up and down the planes of Caleb’s chest, dragging a faint shiver out of him. 

“What?” Caleb choked, still helplessly worked up and reminded of it as Fjord’s fingers danced lower, pulling up at the last moment. “You–” he swallowed, shifting his hips back against Fjord’s, making Fjord’s breath catch. “You can’t be serious,” he derided, rolling his eyes.

“Of course I am,” Fjord hummed, his hand catching the underside of Caleb’s knee and lifting, setting his foot down on the outside of Fjord’s leg as he drew up his own knee just enough to keep it there, spreading him open. It sent Caleb’s pulse racing faster against the press of Fjord’s lips, Caleb’s head tilting back against his shoulder, eyes blown wide as he shuddered, breathing deeply. “There’s plenty of places in Exandria outside the Empire.” He dragged his fingers down Caleb’s thigh, knuckles ghosting over the length of his cock, still hard, on the way back up. “You could come back to the Coast with me,” he breathed, enjoying to hitch to Caleb’s breath. “You know it’s only you that has me taking jobs out of Rexxentrum so often. It’s much nicer, south. I think you’d like it.”

Caleb shook his head, resistant. “What happened to just fucking me?” he gasped, shaking apart so beautifully as Fjord repeated the same move with his other leg, the perfect view of him as he looked over Caleb’s shoulder, his hands running up and down his chest and the quivering insides of his thighs. 

“Not gonna happen, I don’t think,” Fjord breathed, teeth scraping at the arch of Caleb’s throat, pulling a reluctant groan from his chest. “Plenty of time for that later. We’ve too much to talk about tonight.”

Caleb’s hips rolled jerkily as Fjord’s hands dragged lower, not quite where he wanted them. “Fjord,” he hissed, “if you’re not going to – _Fjord_ –” 

Caleb’s complaint as Fjord pulled his hands away was cut short as he realized what he was doing, yanking at the laces of his trousers and tearing the plackets open to finally free his weeping cock, a smooth, burning brand against the small of Caleb’s back. 

“– _oh, fuck_ ,” he moaned, leaning back as Fjord rolled his hips forward. The hand that Fjord hadn’t wrapped around himself as he smothering his groan in Caleb’s shoulder, his hips jerking helplessly, closed around Caleb’s dick, thumb playing roughly with his slit. He squeezed, twisting his wrist how Caleb liked, just shy of mean, his fingers curling tightly. “ _Ohfuck, Fjord_.”

“Didn’t say I wasn’t gonna take care of this first,” Fjord panted, breathless, his stomach swooping low, already close as it was after neglecting himself for so long, but the sounds Caleb was making, squirming against him like that, it should’ve been criminal. “I –” He shuddered as Caleb’s hand groped behind him, brushing at his chest, lower, closing clumsily around Fjord’s hand, keeping pace. “I apologize if this is a bit perfunctory,” he said, almost embarrassingly breathless already. 

Caleb tilted his head back further, straining to press himself closer, fingers of his free hand biting into Fjord’s thigh, pressure building. “You,” he hissed, groping for the back of Fjord’s neck, pulling him closer, wanting more as Fjord’s teeth scraped over his shoulder. “You are an impossibility,” he gasped, eyes closed tight, his breath coming shallow and ragged.

“Suppose we had it coming,” he huffed, muffling a groan against Caleb’s neck, only pushed closer to climax as Caleb’s hand fisted in his hair, pulling him further down, encouraging with a low wanton groan as Fjord bit into the meat of Caleb’s shoulder, cock twitching hard in Fjord’s hand. Fjord’s plans for him had already been altered; he had nothing against a bit of roughness to send them over the edge now. There was time for taking him apart piece by piece later. Going to be _so much_ time for that later, and the certainty of that had his heart soaring.

“Now are you going to come for me?” Fjord growled low in Caleb’s ear, “or gonna make me work harder for it?”

A full body shudder tore down Caleb’s spine as Fjord sucked a dark mark into the side of his neck, hips stuttering into Fjord’s fist as his orgasm crashed over him with all the grace of a ship running aground. Fjord worked him through it, the molten pleasure in his groin building, tingling warm through his thighs but flashing hot at just the sight of him, cock angry red and spilling into Fjord’s hand and across Caleb’s torso; but it was the lovely arch of Caleb’s spine that had him driving his hips back into Fjord’s, his hand clenching tight around himself, that sent Fjord tumbling over the edge of his release, pleasure flaring bright through his every nerve as he painted a mess between them.

It was messy, rushed, and rough in the end, not at all what Fjord had planned for them. But as Caleb sagged against his chest, riding through the aftershocks with him, eyes glassy as he looked up at him, utterly sated, not a trace of his painful admission lingering, Fjord didn’t regret it for a moment. 

“I hear,” Caleb started, catching his breath, groaning as Fjord dragged his spend-slicked fingers teasingly around one of his nipples, chuckling as Caleb slapped his hand away. “I hear Xhorhas is lovely this time of year,” he muttered, just earnest enough that Fjord’s heart leapt, hopeful he understood that Fjord meant it. All of it.

“Yeah?” Fjord chuckled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I suppose you’d burn to crisp in Port Damali, pale as you are,” he teased, nipping at his ear lightly. “Good to have options.”

Caleb sucked in a deep breath, turning his face into Fjord’s neck and collar, closing his eyes for a moment. “You don’t have to do this,” he breathed, his hand finding Fjord’s over his chest, fingers interlacing.

Fjord squeezed his hand, ducking his head to gentle a kiss against Caleb’s lips, helpless to the grin that overtook him. “I want to,” he admitted. “Gods, I want to. Just tell me you’ll let me?” he asked, more hopeful than he’d allowed himself to be in as long as he could remember. “Tell me you won’t fight me on this?”

Caleb exhaled, sinking deeper into Fjord’s arms. “I told you,” he said, the words turned into the privacy of Fjord’s collar. “I would never say no to you, Liebling.”

“It’s not the same,” Fjord murmured, nudging his chin up to press another lingering kiss to his brow, his cheek, his lips. “Say yes,” he pleaded, arms wrapping around Caleb tightly, mess be damned, because he was never letting go.

“ _Ja_ ,” Caleb breathed, between kisses. His answering smile was softer than he would’ve though possible. “Yes.”

A delighted laugh bubbled up in Fjord’s chest, grinning helplessly. “Yes?”

“Yes. For you, yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyy follow me on twitter for more good good widofjord @wytchlyghts


End file.
